The ROBLOX Code Book 1
by GreatOverseer
Summary: It has been said before that the ROBLOX universe is a staggeringly mindless and agitating place
1. Chapter 1

The room in space was dark. Very dark. The builder had probably forgotten to put in lights, or maybe died before he could. The only thing not darkened was a circle of glowing blue light on the floor. It was about 2 blox by 2 blox (1 blox is 1 foot), and hummed like a generator. Then it started to brighten. Beams of light shot up in rapid succession from the glowing circle. Barely visible in between all those flashes was a shadow. It looked like a ROBLOXian...

Grean opened his eyes. He had apperently entered the server inside a room of some kind, one without any lights except for the one he was standing on. _Strange_, Grean thought. _Who forgets to put lights inside a tele room? _He stepped forward cautiously. Nothing made a noise but his footsteps on the smooth floor. Then the sound of more footsteps made him turn very quickly. About two ROBLOXians, with a third being dragged along behind. Grean quickly ducked into a corner. The sliding door to the tele room opened, and someone was thrust in hard, hitting the wall with a clang. Closed again, leaving the user gasping for breath.

"Hey," Grean said. The user turned in about as much fear as Grean had earlier.

"He took me..." the ROBLOXian whispered.

"Who?"

"Overseer 2.0." Grean felt his stomach (or whatever ROBLOXians had in place of one) churn. "He swooped down on Spawn world with his Metal Birds and captured me... he tortured me on several occasions... why I don't know, but he did, and whatever he says, he will pay!"

Overseer sat in the command chair of the _M.S. Netherrack _and thought. That prisoner had been really hard to manage. _Maybe go on him a bit harder next time, _Overseer thought happily. He looked at his close friend, Drago, working with the controls that operated the Spam Bombardment Cannons, and thought how talented his crew was at operating the ship. Possibly he would let Drago take command of all torture chamber functions. _No,_ he decided, _Drago is too... soft-hearted to kill another ROBLOXian in such a manner._ A hissing noise from behind him said his assassin had returned.

"Report, RinzlerV8," he ordered.

"Sir." The slim dark-armored figure bowed. "I've picked up another life form in the teleporter room. Maybe a new arrival."

"Deal with him." RinzlerV8 bowed again.

"As you wish, my master." He left.

Grean heard the user come in before he saw him. A rattling, metallic hiss filled the room incessantly. He did not speak but held out his hand for Grean to hold onto. Grean complied, and the user escorted him out of the tele room. As Grean passed through the doorway, the other ROBLOXian fell down and screamed "DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!," before the door to the tele room closed entirely.

He was now alone with the user. The user's grip was light but unbreakable. Grean dared to ask him the question that had been haunting his mind from the moment he'd arrived here.

"Where am I?"

The user said nothing, only walked faster. Grean sighed in exhasperation. "Hello?" No response. "I know you can hear me." Still none, but the user's hiss had become steadily more rasping. Then: "Duck." A feeling like being repeatedly shot with a flamethrower while being stretched to impossible dimensions hit Grean. He tried to duck but he was in such a mental state of fear that he couldn't. Then the user spoke again. "DUCK, I said!" Grean managed to duck this time. After a while the feeling stopped coming, and he stood up, feeling like a wet rag that had just been wrang.

"Everyone experiences that feeling at one time or another," the user said coldly, dusting himself off. "Well, this was your first Warp. Apparently we're now in F.E.A.R. airspace."

"Are we going on a suicide mission?," Grean said incredulously.

"No," the user replied. "F.E.A.R. planets have been F.E.A.R. planets for one reason: they have valuable resources that would be most helpful to our movement. We're attacking, in other words."

" I hope we don't die," Grean said fearfully. They continued.

At last they reached their destination: a huge room, packed with people. They were all mostly operators, except for whoever was in the large, redblock-upholstered seat in front of then.

"I am back, master," the user intoned. The seat turned around. Astride it was a ROBLOXian, sitting with a relaxed air, a crown with several aluminum lightning bolts protruding from it sitting atop his head. The height was unsure, but he was probably many blox tall, as much as six or seven. And the face stared out from under brows that curved perpetually downward and gave his face a sinister appearance. Grean recognised him immediately. "You're my brother." Overseer smiled a perfect, even-toothed smile.

"I know."


	2. Chapter 2

The F.E.A.R. battlecruiser orbiting the planet Arthuriate V broke of of its orbit very suddenly. Its engines made a deafening sound inside the halls of the _M.S. Netherrack_. Everyone noticed and worked even harder on preparing the ship's turrets.

"Watch, and see how the mighty F.E.A.R. trembles and breaks beneath our far-superior firepower!," Overseer said triumphantly to Grean, who was being held in a grip by Rinzler. Grean raised his eyebrows.

"I'd like to see that happen," he said derisively. Rinzler split his muscle and Grean fell silend with a yelp of pain. The huge battlecruiser stopped about a half mile away from the _Netherrack_. For an agonizing half-minute, there was no sound but the presing of buttons and Rinzler's metallic hiss. Then the bright red laser beams started issuing out of the F.E.A.R. cruiser at about the speed of light.

Netherrack

was hit full on. The ship rocked like a 16th century galleon on stormy seas. The personell toppled onto the tiled metal floor, and Overseer tilted slightly in his chair.

"FIGHTERS!," he screamed. "I want that cruiser DESTROYED!" He himself jumped up from the seat and rushed with his staff to ensure that everything went up to speed.

Once again, Rinzler and Grean were alone. Once he was sure that everyone was gone, Grean breathed a sigh of relief.

"Grean," Rinzler whispered from behind, making him jump. "I'm letting you go."

"What?"

"You don't deserve to die. I can sense you still have a destiny to fulfill; a destiny to overthrow my master." The whispering grew closer. "I need you alive, on the planet below, carrying out the first step of that destiny. Take my Bladeflyer. It's on the roof." A small data chip was thrust into Grean's hand. "This is my key. Use it to open the ship. May fortune be with you." And with that he was gone, to where the others were suiting up and going into their fighters.

Space in ROBLOX was different than space in the real world. For starters, there was gravity, and for another thing there was air. Grean knew that and so knew that he could safely reach the Bladeflyer. He also knew that F.E.A.R. jetpackers would be flying onto the ship to board it at any time. He had to be careful of that.

RinzlerV8 unlocked the fighter controls and started his turbo. The cloud of fighters that Rinzler was in slowly advanced out of the hangar. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Grean smash one of the windows and climp onto the sloping hull of the _Netherrack_. He looked back in front of him. He'd missed the turn that all the rest of the fighters had made. Quickly he veered over and came to a stop behind the cloud.

"What the hell happened?," Overseer's voice over the comlink said irritably.

"Nothing, sir," Rinzler said. But in his mind he was crowing with victory.

Grean's ascent up the hull ended at a small rooftop launch pad. There was no ship on the pad, just empty floor. A small panel nearby, probably the operating system, caught Grean's eye. He walked over and tentatively stuck the datacard in the input slot. A shimmer and the ship stood revealed in all its sleek, shiny, and pointy brilliance. Grean opened the cockpit and again ued the datacard to start turbo mode. At a speed which he thought impossible the ship shot off, narrowly missing the tall spires jutting from the roof.

The controls, localized to a small row of buttons at the bottom of the operation screen, were hard to operate, and soon Grean was in direct path of the starship clash. "Bull," he said. "I can't believe that guy would lend me a ship with controls this crappy!" Managing to get a hold over the corkscrewing and rotating Bladeflyer he swerved while still spinning from the engine shaft, towards the planet below.

Overseer's cruiser was hit once, twice, three times by heavy mortar fire sprayed around the battlefield. Parts of the roof and walls broke down. A loud roar filled the air around as the ship started to lose the antigravity it relied apon to stay afloat...

"That's a hell of a firestorm," Grean said, grimacing. The Bladeflyer was nearing the planet's atmosphere, so close in fact that Grean could feel heat building up inside the cockpit and making his eyes water. Then, to make matters worse, the controls locked up.

With a crash that could be heard all the way from space, the Bladeflyer sloughed into the ground at a heartstopping 300 miles per hour, sending up a spray of flaming dirt and leaving behind a rapidly smoking trench.

The F.E.A.R. technician at the battleship's radar looked around to the captain. "The fleet has fled." The captain nodded and gave a tight smile that only he saw. "And the main enemy ship has been compromised. A small Bladeflyer-class stealth fighter crashed on Arthuriate V's northern Blockscape. We are currently on hold for further orders."

"Send a search crew to check out the crash site," the captain ordered, a steel in his voice. "I want whoever the pilot was or still is to be identified. And then assimilated. Painfully." The technician nodded. He reflected that his job was good and that he'd like to keep it, so that was the only reason he nodded. He also reflected that if he hadn't nodded, his captain, Rajan, would have torn him to bits.

"Dispaches A, B, C, and D," Rajan ordered, "I would like you down on the planet's surface in a maximum of one hour. Is that clear?" A voice from his small hand radio came back. "Aye, sir."

As Rajan looked proudly through the window, an odd thought struck him. It was as if he had suddenly reverted from a lowly F.E.A.R. captain to being SonicXXX himself. A presence boiled in his mind. Rajan smiled. He was having so much fun.

Grean struggled to see through his cracked and murky windshield. Nothing at all. He punched it. _Dammit,_ he thought. In a relatively bad move, the window was made entirely of safety glass. Grean tried now to open the cockpit hatch, and this provoked some response from the herd of wooly Roblosheep Grean was now seeing in the new light from outside. A shepherd dozed near the biggest, oldest, and fattest Roblosheep, a pitchfork still in his hand. Grean stealthily got out of the wreck and looked around at the almost idyllic landscape around him.

There were many trees. Mostly birch, but here and there was an alder or an oak. The grass was light and springy and glistened softly with the early morning dew.

Unfortunately at this point the shepherd decided to wake up.


	3. Chapter 3

"Whot th' hell are you doin' here?," the shepherd said incredulously. He spoke with a somewhat Old Roblian lilt, and gave the impression that he had in fact been an Old Roblian once.

"I crashed here," Grean said, a little nervously as the shepherd brandished his pitchfork towards him in a threatening manner. "If you have shelter, I'd be happy if you'd let me stay there for a night or two." The shepherd's eyes widened.

"You have sum nerve, boy-o," he said, again incredulously. "Whoever stays at my place has'ta do sum chores. My fam'ly and oi have aboot twenty blox of land 'ere. It won't water isself!" Grean felt himself relaxing.

"I'll do it," he promised the shepherd. The old man's eyes softened, and his mouth broke into an uneven grin. "GOOD LAD!," he boomed. "Moi name's O'Neol, keeper of the loc'l estate's gard'ns. Oi'll show ye to moi house, moi lad." He ofered a wizened hand to Grean, who grasped it firmly. They started making tracks towards the horizon, with O'Neol beckoning his sheep to come behing them with a small coo.

The F.E.A.R. troops screamed down from the sky an hour and a half later. Drawing their rifles, they took aim and shot everything in sight for a few minutes. Then their leader, a gruff, grim-looking man named Karbus, stopped them with a hand. "I don't want to have to report this to the boss," he threatened the rowdy troops, who immediately stood to attention. Karbus then ordered the men to split into three different search groups. "Find that ship's owner, and kill him. I don't think the boss wants him alive anymore."

The O'Neol dining table was small and made of rough wood. On one side, Grean sat. on the other, O'Neol and his daughter Blackrose sat. they were all giving each other convincingly friendly looks, except for O'Neol, who was staring in quite the wrong direction completely.

"So, where do you come from?," Blackrose asked curiously. She had none of the Old Roblian that O'Neol had, but spoke regularly and was just like any ROBLOXian. Wearing a white dress with a bow tied to the neck, Blackrose looked like the typical random girl Grean passed almost every day up until now on the streets of New Robloxia. Well, apart from the fact that she had the ears of a catlike animal. Blackrose seemed to notice Grean staring at her ears.

"I know," she said with a small grin, and the ears wavered a little. "I was probably not a ROBLOXian when I was born."

"Found 'er onna small ast'roid out n mil'tary space," O'Neol said proudly. "Caught a lif' with Jared Valdez when 'e wosn't yet a famous li'l..." He trailed off into a string of profanities that quickly subsided. That in turn became a coughing fit. O'Neol gathered himelf together and resumed. "She's part o' an ancient ord'r, mind ye, from wot the pap'r said in 'er escape pod."

Grean decided to change the subject for no apparent reason. "Who owns the estate?," he asked. O'Neol tilted his head sideways.

"Stickmast'r Luke," he answered. "Richest man 'n all this side 'f the serv'r." Grean felt, once again, his hopes rise. "Maybe," he said after a while, "he has a ship that can get me offworld."

"Stickmast'r got sever'l big-uns out back," O'Neol confirmed. "Beauties, alluvum."

"How can I get there," Grean asked to the two O'Neols siting across from him.

"Up in the forest, there's a path," Blackrose answered. "Follow it up to the end. Then you'll find a teleporter that takes you right up to the entrance. When you get into the premises, ask for Guest 1337. He's the butler. I know. I've tried it before."

Suddenly, at the door, there was a bang.

The large, heavy F.E.A.R. soldier again smashed his bulk against the door. A splintering sound was heard, but the door held fast. It was in fact reinforced with steel bars, so it wasn't surprising that the door didn't break down immediately. The fifth time that the heavy soldier came to the door, he noticed a small opening that he hadn't noticed before. It was like a mail slot except a bit smaller. He carefully peeled back the membrane over it-

And got shot in the face by what felt like an entire ammunition shop.


	4. Chapter 4

The fight started almost immediately. It was Grean, O'Neol, and Blackrose against ten F.E.A.R. soldiers and one F.E.A.R. Squad Leader. The squad leader was directing the men in all sorts of crazy attacks. Grean and Blackrose sniped from behind the oak trees near the farmhouse. O'Neol had somehow gotten two shotguns and proceeded to shrapnel the living blox out of the surrounding countryside.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA!," a huge man with a pair of chainguns and platinum armor screamed as he charged towards Grean waving his arms around like a massive windmill. Grean decided to go on instinct and shot the user straight in the crotch with his small handheld. The beam of blue light shot through the back of his skull and finished on the leg of another soldier.

O'Neol wanderd past, blatantly shooting the crap out of a soldier who was now not a soldier but a burning furious wreck. "RUN!," he yelled, "'fore the Int'rcept'rs get ya!" As Grean took this in, two specks appeared in the sky. They looked like ROBLOXians except they had no arms or legs and were trailing a stream of fire behind them. _I've seen those before,_ Grean thought. He couldn't quite place where or when, but he knew he'd seen them before.

Blackrose saw them too and made hurried gestures to move behind some gigantic cedar trees that looked very out of place here in the oaks and elms and birches. Grean obliged.

"How do we get rid of them?," he asked when they were safely behind the trees.

"Use this!," Blackrose responded, and produced a certain item from out of absolutely nowhere at all.

**Brief Interlude**

_Most sources from across the ROBLOX universe have something to say on the subject of utilizing ripples in space. Often they say that ripples are very very hard to control and that whoever tries to control them is a brainless idiot. But some mention the fact that the others have lied about this subject, and that the best utilizer of space ripples is the Arca-Roblo Weapon Design and Building company. More specifically, they say that Arca-Roblo uses hammers as their primary model for new and exciting uses of bending space. The first example of this was the Mark 1 Banhammer, a huge and akward piece of work that required its own crane to lift it up, and then required two rocket boosters to come down on an area the size of one block. since then Arca has become much better at hammers. Near the middle of their current span in years, they created the epitome of small handheld deletion hammers, called the Delhammer Mark 5. These were a phenomenal success on the markets, and since then Arca-Roblo has become very very rich._

**Interlude Ends**

Blackrose held out the hammer to Grean, who took it and weighed it cautiously in his hands. It weighed as much as a full can of Bloxy Cola and that was good. Blackrose raised an eyebrow. The small cats ears on the top of her head perked up.

"Well," she offered, "aren't you going to use it?" Grean shrugged, and then deleted the tree behind them. The F.E.A.R. soldiers, waiting until the two would come out themselves, were so shocked that they were easily deleted, all but one, who, amongst the confusion, slipped away. Grean aimed at the hunched soldier and threw the hammer at the man's shins. With a pop, they vanished. Blood poured out of the stumps, and he screamed and lunged at Grean like some crazed monster.

As the head was just an inch away from Grean's hammer, a shot rang though the air. A sticky red explosion followed. A little ways off, O'Neol stood with the two shotguns aimed in tandem at where the troop had been before.

"Whoo..." O'Neol cried weakly. "I hav'n been this close t' a fight since m' teen years..." He slumped forwards and lay breathing heavily on the ground. Blackrose ran up to his side. "Father!," she cried. The eyes opened. The clear blueness of those eyes burned into Blackrose's heart and stabbed it in the vitals.

"Blackrose," O'Neol managed to rasp. "...you may not be my daughter..." Rasp. "...But you have me eyes." Those very eyes wavered. "Trust your new companion... I sense the g'd in him even nou..." The eyes flickered one last, neurotic time, and then sank into a sort of slow, steady peace that would last forever in both the two's hearts.

For what seemed like hours, even days, they sat by O'Neol's side. Grean had hi arm over Blackrose, who was crying into his shoulder. The normally keen looking eyes of the half-cat were scrunched up and red with tears. Grean did cry, but somewhere deep inside him. He'd known O'Neol for only one half day, but during that time he'd been more then a friend. He'd been a father.


	5. Chapter 5

_Down a corridor he ran. The corridor smelled of iron and blood, like a battle. It twisted and turned until he came into a large room. Full of corpses. Most were cut open and split in grotesque ways, and one was completely disfigured. Its head was on one side of a body covered in torn up muscles. All the pixelated skin had been torn off, and what was left filled the watcher's mind with horror. Then the head twitched-_

A mind-numbing explosion shattered Grean out of his reverie. For a while he had no idea where he was. Then he figured it out. _I'm in some kind of freighter,_ Grean thought, and saw a tower of crates stacking by the hundreds into an artificial sky. The ceiling was so high up and so large that clouds hung there, occasionally buffeting parts of the cargo hold with rain.

Grean felt around in the blueish gloom for Blackrose and found only a patch of bare floor.

"Blackrose!," he shouted. The sound echoed, bouncing his cry off the walls and far, far away top.

An answering cry came to his ears, although it did not belong to Blackrose nor to anybody else he knew. He shouted for the words to be repeated again.

"I said," the voice came, "were you picked up too?!"

"What?," shouted Grean. His mind was confused.

"We were picked up!," the voice responded.

"Who the hell are you?!," Grean ventured.

"Name's Ketsuban," the voice said right to the left of him almost four meters away. Grean spun round. A user stood there between two crates of fish. He looked as though he came from the Eastern Planet Belt, which was nothing bad, merely he was somewhat different from Grean or anybody else in New Robloxia he'd known. Ketsuban wore a rough leather jacket and cargo pants that were worn and stained from years of either wild partying or wandering around in the wilderness. Probably both. Around his shoulder was a cloth rope of some sort, tied in a knot at the end. On his belt were twelve cans of Bloxy Cola and a R.A.T. patented knife, which had almost certainly been stolen. Currently he was wearing an agitated look on his face which suggested he knew where they were and he was not happy about it.

"Where the hell are you?," Grean added onto his previous comment.

"On a ship of some sort," Ketsu replied. "Maybe one of the Vaktovian cargo transporters. Here, go pour this cola over your head." Grean stood back flummoxed. "WHAT?!," he finally sputtered.

"Pour this cola over your head," Ketsu repeated. Grean reluctantly took the Bloxy Cola. "No, don't drink it," Ketsu ordered, "pour it over your head!" Grean obliged. His vision suddenly blurred.

"Don't worry, all part of the focusing," Ketsu reassured. Sure enough, Grean could now see about four times as well as a normal user. "Wow, how the hell did you make Bloxy Cola do that?"

"It's a hack I did," Ketsu replied. "Don't worry, if you had drank it you would be coughing up your small intestine right now. C'mon, let's find our way out of here."

It was easy after that. Vents that were invisible before now seemed perfectly obvious. Climbing crates to get up to them proved a little bit more of a challenge, but not much of one. As soon as the first vent was in view, the sign above it became clear.

"Air Vent from Locker room," Grean read. Ketsu made small retching noises. "Kid, do not even think-" But the hammer-weilding visitor had already deleted the hatch and crawled in.

Ketsu was right. It did stink like a hog in there. Apparently Vaktus was not the best Mr. Clean. Tapping onto the stained linoleum, Grean looked around for any soldiers. But, hey, he reasoned, if F.E.A.R. was their enemy, Vaktovians were their angels. Ketsu waltzed out of the vent as if nothing had happened and stood beside Grean, looking around for another door. A locker near the end caught both of their attentions simultaneously.

Behind it was a pulse. Grean and Ketsu could hear it and see it because of their heightened senses.

The Vaktovian soldier was flattened as Ketsu threw a Cola across the room, where it exploded in a bending wave that shook the doors and caused little bits of plaster to fall off the ceiling. Immediately five others swarmed from behind five more lockers.

"Shit," Ketsu yelled, "it's an AMBUSH!"

Then Grean noticed that on their uniforms there was unanimously a large O made of silver thread, and a smaller V inserted in the middle.

"They're Overseer's men!," Grean shouted and tackled Ketsu as one threw a grenade.

Bits of the floor were sucked into the explosion, as were several lockers and unfortunate security cameras. Only the soldiers and the two adventurers remained unharmed, and the two adventurers were rapidly losing ground as they drew ever neared to a large metal pit with the words "Trash Disposal" over it. Below the sign was a picture of a noob being hurled out into space. The caption read, "It ain't pretty".

With a whir, Grean and Ketsu were sucked out into a cloud of debris and garbage, screaming for their lives.


	6. Chapter 6

Blackrose sat, confused, on a sunny beach.

She still sat, confused, on a sunny beach.

...

She scratched her head. _What the... _One moment she'd been sleeping next to her new friend, the next she was... at a beach. At least she thought it was a beach. There was a palm tree and water and noobish people playing with a beach ball just ahead of her.

But where was the house? Where was O'Neol's body? Where, more importantly, was Grean?

She tried calling his number she had learned that day when he was out in the fields. There was a faint signal. Brightening, she answered, hope filling her. "Hello?"

"Is that you?," Grean's static-y voice came out, accompanied by a great rushing sound.

"Yes," Blackrose said. "How are you?"

"Good. Listen, I'm in trouble."

"Where are you?" There was a long pause from the line, then: "X coord -200, Y coord 3972. Ring a bell?"

"No... should it?"

"You mean you haven't been to Tan With Moons?"

"...No, I actually haven't."

"Okay, okay..." Another long pause. "Well, I'm happy to note that I'm now falling towards the surface from 2,000,000 blox in the air at a speed of..." Pause. "Over 6,000 blox per second."

"So... how do you expect me to help," Blackrose asked.

"Easy. What did you say about that, Ketsuban?" A string of louder static sounded for a few seconds. "He says to 'buy a portal gun from whichever store you are near. Make sure it's... orange."

"Why?"

"Ours is blue."

"OOOOHHHHH, I get it! Too bad there isn't a store on the beach that sells portal guns."

"You're on the beach? Awww, c'mon." This must be Ketsuban now, Blackrose assumed.

"Well there are some notable beach planets around the Universe," Blackrose said knowledgeably. She put down her phone for a second and walked over to the noobs who had the beach ball. "Excuse me," she asked, "but which planet is this?

"Condominiumia," the shortest noob answered, and proceeded to score a winning point in his game of "catch the bloody beach ball before the other guy does".

Blackrose returned to the phone and found an argument. It seemed Ketsuban was complaining about the drop height, and Grean was saying that really it was nothing to worry about seeing as he'd crashed a ship from about bloody well a million blox up and survived. Plus there was a terribly distracting clink-clank going on in the background as well.

"I'm on Condominiumia," Blackrose said forcefully into the muthpiece.

"Apparently you friggin are," said Ketsuban.

"Well, you have the Great Mall of Robloxia on Condominiumia," Grean's voice came from the earpiece. "There is easily some sort of handheld portal generating device THERE."

"Thanks for the advice," Blackrose said, and she meant it.

"You're quite welcome. Hurry up!"

The signal cut.

Blackrose's feet, as she slipped her shoes off, made little wet imprints in the soft sand as she made her way to the Great Mall. As she took in the awesome sight she gasped. The largest shopping mall in Robloxia, here? On this tiny little dump of a planet?

Inside the mall was an entire nation of people, it seemed. Some were just stopping by to buy a box of swords. Others set up their permanent residences here. She could tell by the tents.

A gangly thing walked up to her and asked for a Cola. She said she had none, and the thing walked slowly away to mooch off another one of its fellows. Blackrose turned her attention to the section marked WEAPONS. As she made her way down this section she was surprised at how many there were. One item in particular caught her eye. It was a large, bulky gun with blue tubing, probably for some sort of laser concentration to flow through. The handle was made out of rich black wood, but the rest of the actual framework was made of a lightweight metal. On the left side, carved in by skilled hands, were the letters: XLR.

Soon after she grabbed that one off the shelves, the portal gun became evident to her. Like the ones always available on the market it was white, blatantly stolen from another dimension, and had Bloxerture Laboratories scrawled onto the sides, over the Aperture that used to be there.

Walking past the gangly thing from earlier on, who seemed to have a bad memory as he tried asking her for a cola again, Blackrose rung up the purchases with the cashier, who only spoke Leet and therefore was very hard to work with. After she left the Great Mall, she flipped open her phone and dialed Grean. What she heard was screaming.

"No! Do not move sideways!"

"I will bloody well move where I want!"

"No, Ketsu, you will definitely miss the portal if you go that way!"

"What?!"

"I SAID, you will DEFINITELY miss the P-O-R-T-A-L... if YOU go THAT way!"

"Since when are you the Overlord of the business?!"

Blackrose quickly grew tired of this and promptly shot a portal through the ground.

Two dirty, scuffed figures rocketed out and hit the iron rafters of the Mall entrance pavillion with a dull smack.

As the two got unsteadily to their feet from where their impact had bounced them, she noticed a small knot of security guards coming towards them. They were obviously user-made, because they were all the same down to their faces.

"Agh, now we've pissed off the cops," Ketsuban groaned. "Let's go!"

"Where to?," Blackrose asked, scared of the guards.

"We're going," said Ketsuban, with a voice laced with adventure, "back the way we came." As the cops moved at a run towards them, they held each other's hands and leaped into the portal. With a buzzing noise, it sealed itself behind them, and the cops stopped in their tracks, too stunned to function.


	7. Chapter 7

Wind. A bitter, whistling wind. Red peaks stretching up to the sky for miles upon end, it seemed. Swirling dust. Eddies of sand and disturbed air. Enormous dust devils spiraling in the distance. A low, keening scream disrupted the air, from the large bird-like creature that sat atop a jagged rock. Farther away, from what seemed like light years, mighty volcanoes shook the earth and sent their fiery plumes into the air like birds from a tree.

A head poked up from an elliptical hole in the ground where a portal had once been, along with two other heads. Grean looked around in awe and fear. "Blimey," he said quietly. "The thing I said about whether you've been here before... I was just curious myself. But I never thought..." He trailed off. Ketsuban was at a loss. Blackrose was crying.

"Don't cry," Grean soothed Blackrose. "It's just hell on earth. Nothing to be scared about." Blackrose had to stifle a laugh. But the air around them was dismal enogh to stifle their happiness, too.

In the distance, a tall, towering shape loomed. At the very top, a red light shone. It was an evil thing, blurred with centuries, maybe eons, of neglect.

"The Lighthouse of Old Uhtblok," Ketsuban said in fear. They all knew about the Lighthouse of Old Uhtblok. When they were all kids, their respective guardians had told them the millenia-old text file of Uhtblok's Evil Plan. And it had seemed like a simple story, full of princesses and knights and warriors and bloxxers and kings and queens and dragons... until they had gotten to the Lighthouse. They said it was once a graveyard, for those evil enough to control the whole Universe, and for those foul things that were said to have eaten away at millions upon millions of worlds.

Next to the Lighthouse was a sleek, black spaceship. From here it looked unadorned. But with the vision that the Bloxy Cola had given him, Grean could make out the familiar symbol: F. He stiffened. F.E.A.R. was here. And surely a ship this sleek and fancy could only belong to the highest in the organization.

"Well, we're screwed," Grean managed after a while. "It's F.E.A.R., coming to take us away."

"We must go to war," Blackrose said angrily, "against the people who killed my father."

"Yeah, F.E.A.R. are some ugly bleeders," Ketsuban agreed solemnly. "Let's beat the crap out of them."

SonicXX stood in prair as his second-in-commands watched carefully. Behind the seconds stood Rajan and several other F.E.A.R. captains. Rajan was worried that this all would turn out for the worse. But, he reasoned, this is SonicXX here. He won't just let anything bad happen to us.

A glowing dark aura encircled SonicXX, and his eyes were starting to glow red. He was in Deep Prayer.

In his mind, he saw a dark room full of corpses. There were at least nine of them, all shredded and mutilated to a massive degree. He was the shadow, the invisible one, the death of all things. He started to get a feeling that all was not well. For one thing, he heard a sound of footsteps.

"Your Grace." The voice startled SonicXX out of his possessment. It was Rajan. "Sir, there is something I think you will want to see for yourself, sir." SonicXX peered out the tower window closest to Rajan's finger. He could not believe what he saw.

"Smashing through the snow, on a one horse open DIE MOTHERBLOXER DIE!," Ketsu screamed as Grean latched himself onto the third F.E.A.R. Mech and with gusto ripped off its head with his hammer. Deleting a few other troops in a small shower of blood, he signaled to Blackrose, who opened fire with the XLR. In between the fire Ketsu darted, grabbing a sticky grenade pack from a dead soldier and sticking one at a time on the turrets surrounding the lighthouse. There were several explosions, most of which destroyed the turrets.

"Take out the doors!," Grean yelled to Ketsu, who immediately chucked the entire bag of sticky grenades at the huge wrought-iron gates to the Lighthouse.

The impact that followed neatly took out the front of the building along with the doors, successfully killing off the rest of the F.E.A.R. soldiers and mechs who still remained.

"Move in!," Ketsu ordered everyone.

Inside the Lighthouse it was dark; dark as pitch, dark as leatherhide, dark as a demon's heart. Spiderwebs of massive proportions littered the cieling and walls. Up against a corner, something huge rested. Blackrose whimpered. Grean, arms protectively aroung her, silently crept towards the thing, not daring to make a noise. They all realized it was just the empty skin of a monstrous spider, about two billion times the size of a Black Widow, it seemed. Yet, on its belly, it had a sign on it that meant more than poison. Ancient Uhtblok was calling to them.

"Come on," Grean said to the rest. "WE can't stop here just because of a sign!" He chuckled halfheartedly. Even he was not sure whether to turn back or fight the enemy. He chose the latter.

With a slightly trembling hand, he pointed down a set of slate stairs, below which was nothing but pure darkness. Blackrose couldn't bear it any longer. Her ears drooped down and she started crying at the top of her lungs. Grean, this time, had no idea what he was supposed to do. He looked at Ketsu, who looked bemused.

There they were, about to face their greatest enemy, and Blackrose, perhaps Grean's best friend, was breaking down in front of the very steps of doom themselves.

Reaching a conclusion, Grean knelt down by her. He took the small, light hand in his own bigger ones. She looked up at him. He had no idea why he did it, or what drove him to do this thing, but he did it anyways. He kissed Blackrose.

For a long time their lips were locked, and after a while Blackrose stopped crying and sat there as they finally broke apart.

"I'll always be there for you, Black," Grean said. Blackrose nodded.

"Me, as well."


	8. Chapter 8

The moan of forgotten souls echoed throughout the corridors. Down here in the underbelly of Old Uhtblok, it was cold. There was no life to the air. The whole place reeked of neglect and decay.

Blackrose tried to walk along in a relatively composed manner. She found it easier with the residual effects of the kiss rebounding in her mind. Holding the XLR actually helped, as well.

Grean walked in the front. He carried his hammer over his shoulder like a baseball bat, and wore a look of grim determination on his face. _The corridor he remembered looked exactly like this one..._

Suddenly, Grean was alone. He had no idea how he had lost his friends so quickly when they were right beside him. Putting his hammer in front of his chest, he looked around. Darkness.

Then, a sound. A sound of limping feet behind him. They dragged with a wet-sounding crunch over the floor. Interlaced with that was the sound of bubbling. Grean stopped being still and ran forwards, trying to see. Looking behind him he saw two pinpricks. They were dim, but the eyes were red and gaining on him. Snarls and gargles became more evident as the thing drew closer. And then it was done; the deformed thing behind him had knocked Grean to the ground. Scrambling up, Grean aimed a blow at the hideous monster behind him. It laid him out easily. Turning, he saw that another thing had staggered towards him from the front. This time it had about three legs and the residual stumps of arms. Its head was long and bony, and the area around the mouth was torn, bloody red and black. Grean laid this one out with a kick to the teeth. The thing's jaw came off in a shower of fetid blood.

Grean came to a four-way divider, where two different creatures rushed him from the side making howling noises. This time, he tried to delete them. No effect. Seeing no other option, he ran down the bit of corridor in front of him. The Bloxy Cola had worn off by now, and Grean was soon lost in a dark, linular corridor that seemed to go on forever.

Then, an exit. Grean lunged for it. He made it just in time, as the door that had been completely hidden in between two doorframes shut with a grind and a small bang.

"Whewwwww," Grean breathed.

He looked around his new location.

It looked horribly familiar. Grean couldn't tell why. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized why it was familiar.

The place was full of corpses.

Some were smashed in half or in thirds. Some had their heads burnt by acid and their bodies burnt by fire. But the one in the middle was more of a residue than a body. The lower half had been crushed into a field of scattered meat fragments. Blood still pooled around the thing, even though it must have been dead for a while. The head was a nightmare. Blood filled each eye like there were once tears of it. The mass had dried up now, to make a rough, brown shell. Grean stepped back.

As if the corpse actually noticed Grean for the first time, the head twitched. All the heads twitched. Then, slowly, they rose into the air, propelled by some sort of ghastly necromancy, and glided towards Grean.

Raising his hammer, Grean felt a dark presence in the room with him, so intensely dark that it wasn't just the type of feeling that "oh, look, a dark wizard is doing his crap an inch away from me!" It was the actual, tangible feeling of malice that hung around the air, and the fact that a man in a black vest had pushed his way through the undead mass, who immediately ceased their advance forward and now formed a tight ring around Grean.

The man took out a briefcase, a small black one with a silver F embossed on it. Inside was a bottle of Bloxy Spirit. He poured half into one cup, and half into his own.

"Don't be alarmed... it isn't poison," the man said. His eyes glowed faintly red from, presumably, controlling an army of undead spirit warriors. "So, you're the legendary one that took out our men in front of my very own territory? You have nerve, boy." He motioned to Grean's glass. "Drink. A toast to bravery."

Grean stayed there. "I don't drink."

"Rightly so," the man chuckled. "A man of your... manufacture must remain well oiled." He took a sip of his Spirit.

"Who are you," Grean demanded.

"I'm... nobody who really matters to you... But you matter to F.E.A.R. a whole awful lot."

"Ae you an executive?," Grean asked. The man, this time, laughed out loud and shook his glass of Spirit until it sloshed a little out the side.

"NO!," he screamed with mirth. "I'm the motherbloxxin' HEAH HONCHO!"

"Sonic?," Grean said.

"Yeah, kid. Now I'm going to kill you soon, but not now. NOW I want to show you my newest plan." He gestured at the horde of zombies clustering around them. "I have the ancient cursed shovel with which they were buried. It can control them, but you need a special kind of person to make them your army." He gestured with the glass at Grean. "You see, you... have a gift, at creation. You are descended from the very man who buried these cursed bodies with THIS VERY SHOVEL!" A regular old garden trowel was thrust underneath his nose. "Now, take it..." SonicXX's eyes gleamed in the dark, a burning scarlet. He was mad, Grean thought, a complete loony. But instead of taking the trowel and trying to manipulate the zombies, Grean took it and bashed SonicXX in the chin. The undead collapsed to the ground.

Grean ran to the door, but the undead slowly rose again. SonicXX was back up and charging with a katana towards him!

With one move, Grean ducked and tweaked the katana so that it flipped up and stuck in the ceiling with a buzzing sound. SonicXX leaped up and wrenched the katana down again. He lunged- and found himself being blocked by a Swiss Army Knife. Ketsuban! Grean looked at him. There seemed to be some sort of unanimously heard signal between them. At once they acted as a single user. While Grean killed zombies with ease from one side, Ketsuban fought off SonicXX's katana with his knife.

"You will never win!," SonicXX's laughter came. "I have millions of undead soldiers in the tunnels! You will never kill them all!"

"Yeah, we will," Ketsuban said, and dodged a near-deathblow from the enraged leader.

"And even if we don't, that amount of zombies will fill up the tunnels to breaking and kill you!," Grean said derisively.

SonicXX, in a fury that left the two defenders goggle-eyed, took another sword from the pack slung across his back and started to hack out large bist of the floor. It was, in fact, very thin for a floor. Below, Grean could see lava flows a thousand miles wide, molten falls the size of a F.E.A.R cruiser, and explosions like nothing he'd ever seen.

Cutting up the floor and letting small rivulets of fire in through the gaping wounds, SonicXX failed to notice the arrival of a newcomer.

"Death," said the newcomer, "is so easy to simulate." The laser ripped through SonicXX's skull and burned itself out on a wall behind him. Staring blankly at the ground, SonicXX slowly toppled, into the glowing red sea of boiling death.

Blackrose put down her XLR. She was gasping for breath, bloodstains down her side from injuries and killing all those zombies. Grean ran up.

"How did you sneak up on him?," he asked. Blackrose shrugged. "Well anyways, it was a noble deed."

The ground shook. For the first time they noticed what had been holding this entire place together for this long of a time: the cursed trowel. And since the cursed trowel was now melting in a sea of burning metal... well, they were screwed.

"RRRRRUUUUUNNNNN!"

The walls shook. Up in one part of the ceiling there was a large crack which suddenly split. The ground started to crumble. Most of the undead that were alive enough to cling onto their senses of danger screamed as they fell into the core of the planet. They burned long before they hit the molten ground a mile below. And right at the rim of the catastrophe were three shocked and frightened users desperately trying to get away before the entire place blew its top. Up the long set of stairs, through one corridor, over a pit of flaming iron, leaping through a flaming wooden door.

As the trio stampeded onto the red desert sand, there was a mind bending shockwave behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

The helicopter arrived an hour later. There was a huge crater in the planet surface. Around it were the burning bodies of what looked like sick, deformed noobs with claws like razors. With a whir and a cloud of dust, the heli hovered inches over the rough, inhospitable ground. Out of it came several Robloxian soldiers. They had the insignia of ROBLOX on their shoulder plates and their armor. Over their heads they always wore a Builder's Club hard hat, and a light for dark areas.

One of these men saw a movement from behind a dislodged stone. A hand was reaching out for a pocket knife lying on the ground, its blade undamaged by the explosion.

"Sir," the soldier shouted to his commanding officer, who signaled for the rest of the soldiers to come with him as he marched to the three inert bodies.

"Mother of Telamon," the officer said, the chocolate bar in his mouth slipping away. "They look dead. MEDIC!" A white-suited medic with a gas mask that would have put The Pyro to shame bustled over.

"Sir?," the medic asked.

"Take these three aboard the chopper," the officer ordered. Three of the burliest soldiers came from the crowd and each grabbed one figure at a time.

When the heli was ready, the blades began to rotate faster. As the surface of the planet blurred and zoomed away, out, the officer rung up his rendezvous, the ship R3d. Within minutes, a scout ship docked at the sie of the heli. A ramp was extended, and a tall, muscular man disembarked. He wore a pair of sunglasses around his head, and walked with a swagger that suggested he'd seen all the universe and knew it MUST be his even though it wasn't.

"Officer," MaxR3d said, "I think it's time to revive our passengers."

***End of Book One***


End file.
